


Fear in a Handful Dust

by thefreakfox



Series: The Way I Choose [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Hunter AU, Hunter!Cas, M/M, Surprise Characters - Freeform, human!Cas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-26
Updated: 2014-12-26
Packaged: 2018-03-03 17:29:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 13,617
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2859044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thefreakfox/pseuds/thefreakfox
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Some years have passed after the fateful day when Cas ran away from Dean. Cas is now a successful hunter, known for being able to handle the weirdest of cases. But even he is not prepared for what is coming at him: not only a new and confusing hunt, but also new allies and enemies, the likes of which he couldn't even have imagined. This hunt will teach Cas more about himself and his story than anyone ever could.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Please note that Dean and Sam only appear in flashbacks and Cas' thoughts. Those of you who wait for the two lovebirdies to resolve their manifold issues will have to wait for the third and last installment of the series.
> 
> So many thanks to everyone who commented and kudo-ed the first part! I know it took me ages to finish this one, and because I couldn't keep you possibly waiting even more, I decided to post the whole story at once.
> 
> I also hope all of you had nice holidays, whether or not (or what) you were celebrating. Also, a Happy New Year to everyone who will read this after New Year's Eve ;)
> 
> I love you all, thank you again for your support!

**one last note:** all my love and gratitude to [buttheyrebrothers](buttheyrebrothers.tumblr.com), who is a wonderful beta and amazing person. I couldn't have done this without you, my darling.

 

* * *

 

 

**Chapter 1**

Cas closed the door of his motel room and dropped his duffel on the floor. He was exhausted, he longed for a shower, and it felt like his stomach was trying to eat itself; but before he moved to solve each of his problems in a not yet decided order, he took out his cellphone.

TO: The Dean

_Arrived safely. Interviews 2morrow. C._

His thumb hovered over ‘send’, just like it always did, then he closed the message. It would be saved as a draft, just like all the others had been. He undressed and took a shower.

It was his third week on the road after a short stay at the Roadhouse, to rest a bit and catch up on some news. But Cas never managed to stay very long these days, always moving and researching cases. Jo blamed his fear of confrontation for it; the shorter he stayed somewhere and the faster he moved, the lesser were the chances on accidentally meeting any of the Winchesters. And with “any”, Jo meant Dean.

Cas sighed and let the water beat on his back. When he exited the shower, he stopped to look at the mirror in the bathroom. The man that stared back at him hadn’t much in common with the boy Cas had used to be; the boy he remembered from photographs Jo had given him in a little box for Christmas last year. The boy had been bright-eyed and smooth-faced, his body had had hardly any scars, and no tattoos at all, and he’d had the body of a runner. The man in the mirror had bulked up a bit, and scars littered his body; mementos from his early hunts, when he’d been not careful enough and had been injured almost every time.

Cas rubbed across his face, feeling stubble under his fingers. He needed to shave before he went into town tomorrow to interview some of the citizens; he had learned the hard way that some people refused to take FBI agents seriously that didn’t shave regularly. Or that showed tattoos. His eyes trailed those tattoos visible in the mirror, and he smiled slightly.

The first ones had been trophies: for every monster that he had killed, he’d gotten one tattoo; often stylized images of the lore surrounding the monsters. After the fourth or fifth, it had become also about control. There wasn’t much these days that Cas could control, but one thing was trusting another person enough to let them stab him with a needle repeatedly for hours. Jo had called him insane when he’d tried to explain it to her, but she had also managed to make him promise to take her to a tattoo parlor as soon as she was old enough to get a tattoo herself.

Cas shook himself out of his thoughts and dried off, then walked into the bedroom. He contemplated sleeping naked – it was too fucking hot to put on clothes – but in the end decided at least for boxer briefs before he fell into bed, Bobby’s education getting the better of him. He grabbed his phone and shot a short message to Jo to let her know he was okay, then set his alarm clock for 8 am.

Before he put the phone away again, he hesitated. He wanted to write another message for Dean – not that he would ever send it – but didn’t do it. He tried to limit himself to a certain amount of messages, and he was way over the limit already. Writing the messages without sending them was something that had started shortly after Cas had run away from Dean (again). Initially, he’d only wanted to send a message to apologize (again), but had only saved the message without sending it. It didn’t feel like a text message would be enough to fix things; so Cas had resigned to not even trying.

He now kept three journals: his hunter journal that actually contained useful information; a journal in which he wrote basically everything that happened to him, and in which he also kept receipts and postcards and other small things he came across, and the memory card of his phone where every message Cas had ever wrote for Dean was saved. The second journal, he’d intended to give Jo every time when he came home, so she could read up on what he’d done; but after the first time she’d given it back to him saying that he should keep it for Dean. And soon, Cas realized why: Dean was between every word and line of the pages he’d written; things he’d remarked “I saw an Impala today, a bit younger than Baby, but it looked really terrible”) much more interesting for Dean than they were for Jo. So he started to write these things especially for Dean, talking to him more than he did in the text messages he never sent, even though essentially they still meant the same one thing over and over again: _I’m sorry. I miss you. Can I come back?_

Before he drifted away to sleep, Cas realized that he hadn’t eaten; and that meant he’d probably wake up in the middle of the night, too hungry to sleep. But he couldn’t find it in him to really care about it, so he gave up and fell asleep.

###

_“What the fuck, Cas?” the voice startled them both, and Cas managed to slid out between Sebastian and the truck._

_“Dean. I… oh my god,” Cas stuttered, staring at Dean as much as Sam and Dean were staring at him. The shock on both of their faces sent Cas’ mind reeling._

_Sebastian had been right. Dean would never want him like this, the expression on his face, anger and disgust, made that clear enough to Cas. And now, Dean knew. He didn’t know about Cas’ love for him, at least that was a tiny relief, but now Dean knew he was gay and he just couldn’t deal with that right now._

_Throwing all sensible thoughts in the wind, Cas did the only thing that came to his mind:_

_He ran._

_Running felt familiar to him; after all, it wasn’t the first time he’d run away from Dean. Only now, he desperately didn’t want to be found. Only now, he wouldn’t be able to come back from running._

_He cut into the woods, using a dirt track that was barely visible, because as far as he knew, he was the only one that used it now and again; mostly when he felt like there was too much energy in his body and his brains, and he needed a track that challenged him both mentally and physically._

_They would probably try and search for him, he reckoned. They wouldn’t find him; that he swore to himself. His advantage was clear: Bobby did own the woods (at least Cas thought he did) but it had been a long time since he’d been really in them; and he was a good hunter, but Cas had learned from him. And since he was here so often, big parts of the woods smelled like him, so Rumsfeld would have a hard time figuring out where exactly he went. Just to ensure some confusion, Cas dropped his sweatshirt in a bush and doubled back the way he’d come. He lost his t-shirt at the foot of an old tree. He climbed it and managed to reach another tree (this was his favorite part of woods, where the trees stood close and tall) and another, until he was sure that Rumsfeld couldn’t pick up his trail. He sat down on a big branch and rested his back at the trunk. Then he made a plan._

_Night was already falling when he returned to Bobby’s house. He knew that they would give up when it was fully dark, but probably not before that, so returning now ensured that they were still away – if they had bothered to search for him. And if they did, Cas was sure that they had left one person behind, to alarm the others when he returned; and he bet it would be Sebastian, who was the least helpful person right now: still injured, and with practically no knowledge of the surrounding woods._

_The scrapyard was silent when Cas walked through it, as most of the woods had been; he’d heard Bobby and Dean calling for him, and sometimes Sam, when he’d hid away in the trees, but they never had come near him. Now, it was almost creepy how still everything was, only a light at the porch illuminating the nearest area. Cas didn’t try for silence, and so Sebastian stepped out of the house not long after Cas had reached it._

_“There you are! I was worried, man! I need to call the others and –“_

_“You need to shut your mouth and listen,” Cas cut Sebastian off and stepped closer._

_“You ruined everything, Sebastian. And I try so hard not to be pissed with you, but if you say another word I won’t give a shit about your injuries. Just let me go, okay?”_

_Sebastian hesitated for a second, then he stepped aside. Guilt and anger painted his face in both parts, and Cas knew why. Only that didn’t help, nothing helped. He walked upstairs and threw his belongings in his duffel bag, got the tantos out from under the loose floorboard where he’d always stored them and walked downstairs again._

_He was looking for his car keys – the Galaxie was pretty much finished, so he wouldn’t have to steal a car – when Sebastian reappeared behind him._

_“Cas, I’m sorry, I-“, he touched Cas’ shoulder, and tried to turn him around._

_Cas didn’t know what it was that made him do it, but he didn’t hesitate for a second before he punched Sebastian in the face. Without another word, he left the house, climbed inside the car and drove away._

###

When Cas woke up, he was disoriented; almost expecting to feel the seats of his car under his back, or the sounds of Ellen making breakfast waking him up. But the only sounds were that of another car arriving, doors opening and closing, and then, again, silence.

Cas sighed and went for his cellphone. 3:54 am, the clock read. It had been a long time since he’d dreamed of his disappearance, but the ache in his chest had not become less. Maybe he should’ve stayed to try and talk it out; but with every day that went by, it became harder to return.

No, he said to himself, he couldn’t come back now. Maybe he would meet Dean and Sam somewhere down the road, but for now, he was alone.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

 

The intro of Metallica’s “Master of Puppets” woke him in the morning. Groaning, he answered his phone.

“Cas! Hi! Good to hear you, man. Listen, I was just talking to Bobby and you’ve been kinda reassigned, I know it’s on super short notice, but hey, what can you do, right? Well, anyway, you have to drive to Westerly, Rhode Island. There’s been some weird shit going on, and-“

“MRPHMPF!”

Cas rolled out of bed and put the phone on his leg. He could hear Garth babble away, and was seriously not sure why in the seven hells he’d answered the phone; since Garth was the only one that had a personal ringtone (he’d changed that in Cas’ phone himself; mostly because Cas couldn’t be bothered to work out how it was done). Garth was also the only one that had no fucking respect for other people’s sleeping patterns. So why the hell had he answered his phone?

“Garth? Garth, shut up for a second,” Cas said in the general direction of his phone.  He heard Garth babble on for a few seconds before he actually stopped.

“Okay, so here’s what we are doing. You are going to dial back a bit, and I am getting a coffee. Tell me what Bobby’s been up to or something like that. No case stuff before I at least made my coffee, kay?”

Garth hummed an okay and then started on a tale how Bobby had started to keep Rumsfeld in for the night or when the weather was shit. He was thinking about getting another guard dog, because he kept claiming Rumsfeld got too old for the job.

Cas grinned at that while was measuring the coffee powder for the crappy machine the motel supplied in the rooms. He’d always suspected that Bobby had a soft spot for the Rottweiler, and that right there was definitive proof. Against his normal tendency to be a total asshat when he was woken up, Cas realized that it was actually kind of nice to talk with Garth.

Granted, they had had a rocky start, but Garth – unlike most other hunters – hadn’t stopped trying with him when Cas had been at his worst point; suffering from nightmares, sleep-deprived and constantly threatening other people. Cas had been drowning in self-hate and anger, and had managed to alienate everyone. Well, everyone except for his family, Bobby, Aundrea, and Garth.

Garth and Aundrea especially had helped (well, in Aundrea’s case, it was more like bullied) him out of his dark place, each in their own ways. And since then, Garth had been, well… his friend.

 “You done with your coffee now?” Garth asked, but didn’t wait for his answer.

“So, there’s been an incident in Westerly. Pretty weird stuff, and since the MacBeth thing, you’ve become the poster boy for weird shit, angelboy, and because of that, Bobby thought it might be a good idea to send you there?”

“Did you just call me _angelboy_?”

“Shit, I’m sorry, okay? Aundrea mentioned that name a few days ago, and it must’ve slipped out and-“

“I’m gonna kill her.”

“Oh, whohohoho… easy there, kid. No murdering before noon, you know how the rules are.”

Cas laughed and waited for Garth to go on, measuring his motel room with his steps. There wasn’t much space, but he needed to move, as he often did when they were talking about a case. It seemed to give him an instant case of wanderlust.

He stopped to take a sip of his coffee and then tried to listen to Garth’ explanation of what had happened in Westerly, Rhode Island. It was still all kinds of weird that hunting had become so organized over the years. Most of that was probably Garth’ fault, and as much as it pained Cas to talk to him sometimes – Garth being the hunter that had indoctrinated Sebastian, and Sebastian being the reason why everything had turned to shit with Cas and Dean, at least in Cas’ opinion – Cas had to admit that it made hunting a lot more easier; at least if you could deal with Bobby and/or Garth giving you orders. Word was the Winchesters were still very selective about obeying said orders; word also was they generally only listened to Bobby.

As far as Cas knew, Garth had sort-of moved into Bobby’s house, because while the news of having a headquarter that assigned certainly got around, people were still more likely to call Bobby’s various phones than Garth’ one phone. Cas suspected that Bobby would tolerate Garth only as long as necessary, but for now it was pretty much the best solution.

“… so yeah, pretty weird shit, right?”

Cas sighed when he realized that he’d missed pretty much everything that Garth had just said to him.

“You didn’t listen at all, did you? Man, I know it’s not my place, but you should really get your head checked. You’ve never been the most attentive person in this universe, but since that ghost chucked the lighting equipment at your head it’s gotten even worse. I’m sending everything I just said to your phone via email. You do know how to use that, right?”

After Cas had affirmed that yes, he did know how to use his phone, thank you very much, Garth hung up and Cas sighed again.

If he’d known that getting involved in what was now only called ‘The Macbeth Incident’ entailed getting chaperoned even a year after it, he’d have not even bothered with it. But he had, and a ghost had indeed thrown various things at him, and one of them had hit him right in the head, winning him a concussion of epic proportions and apparently, as other hunters believed, a disability to focus on things. Cas always tried to argue that zoning out was something he’d always done, even as a kid, but nobody wanted to listen to him.

_Dean would’ve listened to you, and Sam, too._

At that thought, Cas laughed bitterly. Yeah, they probably would have defended him, had they still been his friends. But they weren’t his friends now, so they didn’t. And how they would have laughed about that case, all three of them together! It had started as a minor occurrence, a hiccup, really, in a local theatre production. The company had wanted to put on Shakespeare’s MacBeth, one of the actors had uttered the name of the play while on stage and suddenly people had started to get hurt.

Local newspapers had reported the incidents, drawing on the old story about how the play was cursed, and all the other superstitions that surrounded it. When Cas had heard of it, he’d suspected witches (not that the play really revealed any of their secrets, the incantations were total crap as far as Cas knew); but in the end it had been the ghost of a former theatre director that had died during the last time the play had been showed in the theatre of the city. The only problem was that after burning the bones of the man, the ghost was still there, so a hunt after any remaining parts of him had begun.

To make a long story short, the ghost was there because part of the play really was cursed, or more precisely, the portfolio of the text was; and Cas had had a pretty hard time to get his hands on it. Breaking and entering while having a hellish concussion wasn’t anything he ever wanted to do again; but he’d gotten the damn thing, burned it, and the theatre company had been able to go on normally.

For reasons unknown to Cas, this had given him a special reputation for being able to deal with the weirder side of the shit hunters had to handle. Hence, his sudden re-assignment and the terrible long drive he had ahead of him. And it wasn’t even like Cas didn’t like to drive; his Galaxie was fucking gold, okay? It had the most comfiest seats Cas had been able to find, he’d hooked up his mp3-Player with the radio so he had sheer unlimited music to sift through, and to top it all off, he’d managed to build a sort-of makeshift bed in the space of backseats and the trunk. Since he stored his hunting gear in a hidden compartment under the actual trunk bottom, as  probably every hunter did, he had tons of space for the bed and could sleep comfortably when he was on the road and there was no motel in sight.

Jo had accused him of bein a sucker for comfort, and Cas had wholeheartedly agreed. His car design maybe wasn’t the most normal, but at least he didn’t have to worry about kinks in his neck and back from sleeping in his car. And listening to other hunters bitch about these aches filled Cas always a bit with glee.

Now, though, he wasn’t really looking forward to the drive, mostly because he’d thought he’d have a few days of staying in one place ahead of him. Gas wasn’t exactly getting cheaper these days. His grumbling stomach also reminded him of the fact that he hadn’t eaten in half a day, so he resigned to getting breakfast first, then groceries for the drive, before he would finally take off. And he’d also have to try and get the money back that he’d paid in advance.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

 

Cas arrived in Westerly majorly pissed off and almost a day late. Blowing a tire on the highway was one thing, but the  one-day wait for a replacement because he needed a special kind of tire… let’s just say he was hell-bent on modifying the Galaxie again as soon as he’d find the time for it.

He checked into a non-descript motel on the outskirts of town and repeated his ritual: a short text to Dean that he never sent to him, a shower, a shave. Between two beers and a sandwich, he went over his case file again, and then he went to bed – only to get up again a few minutes later to grab his journal. He hesitated for a few seconds, then he started to write.

_Dean –_

_It’s been almost two years now, since the last time I saw you. Since I ran away from you, to be exact. The more time goes by, the more I realize how stupid I was; only it’s also getting harder to come back again. Especially because I don’t know if you’d still have me back._

_Jo sometimes tells me about what you and Sam are doing, and it’s so weird, hearing her speak about you like there wasn’t this huge thing between us. I guess it’s good, it’s good that Jo is still talking to you. After all, you’re her friends too. Only… it’s so fucking bizarre. Listening second-hand to your stories, knowing I won’t hear them from you._

_Things have been mostly fine for me; Garth won’t stop bugging me about talking to you, so that’s kind of nerve-wracking. But other than that and considering the circumstances… yeah, I’m fine. Sebastian was apparently trying to look for me, or so I’ve been told. A part of me wants to be found by him. Another still says I should wait for you, even when waiting is the thing I’m so, so bad at; and even when I don’t know if you’re actually looking for me._

_But, anyway. The case I’ve been assigned (and isn’t that weird, getting assigned cases?) is probably the epitome of weird. Garth has been contacted by somebody called Ash, and from what I know about his background, that guy is a mix of technical genius and conspiracy lover. I guess that is also how he got in contact with Garth; he seems to know enough to be sure that something’s wrong in his town, but not enough to actually do something about it. I’ve never handled civilians like that; they only start knowing after we arrive, not before. I’m not quite sure how much I am supposed to tell, I’ll probably decide after tomorrow. Chances are we could need him, especially with all the computer stuff._

_I’ve got to sleep now, I’m meeting up with Ash pretty early tomorrow, so I’ve got enough time to also do the official rounds with the police and stuff._

_Take care of yourself and Sam._

 

Cas closed the book and set it aside. He felt calmer now, as he almost always did after he wrote into Dean’s journal. It helped to sort things out, and it was also the closest he came to talking to Dean.

Sometimes he felt bad about himself, for still being hung up about his best friend. It wasn’t like him to be so… helpless and needy. Like there wasn’t another chance for him to be happy, like he desperately needed Dean, and nobody else. Jo, who was currently torn between studying psychology, going hunting or doing both at the same time, liked to tell him that with a mindset like that, a relationship with Dean was the most unlikely thing to happen. She talked about being secure with one’s self, about healthy relationships and co-dependency, the first apparently lacking in both Dean’s and Cas’ life, while the latter was all too dominating.

That was always the part when Cas hang up on her; not because he didn’t like to talk to his little sister, but because what she said hit too close to home for him. He knew that he needed to get better first, that if there ever was a chance for Dean and him, he needed to be okay first. But getting better was so _hard_ , because one day he thought he actually was better, and the next he felt like he’d never been worse. And because wanting to get better didn’t always mean that he actually did.

For Cas, the fact that he didn’t even know if Dean felt the same way had long become a minor aspect to his thinking. That was something he would deal with when – or if – the situation presented itself. Before that, Cas knew he needed to focus on himself. He often thought that it would be easier for him if there had been a definitive point, a reason why he turned out so terribly depressed and co-dependent. But as far as he knew, there hadn’t. And he had been fine, mostly, before he ran away. Ellen and Jo had kept him stable, and so had Dean and Sam. Granted, not everything had been completely okay before his escape, the thing with Sebastian only the first in a long list – but it hadn’t been as bad as it became later. The feeling of being alone was something that had been hard to get used to.

He fell asleep with a weird feeling in his gut; telling himself it came from thinking too much about his bad times, even though he recognized it for what it was: he’d felt the same way he did shortly before Sebastian had turned up, and again before Dean and Sam came to visit and everything went to shit. Cas was too much a hunter to ignore his intuition, but for all that he knew that this wasn’t just a normal case, he couldn’t do much before tomorrow morning. So he buried it under a few layers of rational thinking and went to sleep.

***

Ash wasn’t really hard to pick out from the people in the diner when Cas arrived. He had expected a certain grade of weird, and the guy with the trucker hat and a mullet fit that perfectly – the laptop in front of him completed the picture. Cas himself had chosen fairly normal clothing, even though the jacket he wore was probably a bit too warm for the weather outside. But for all the sweating, it had the advantage of being customized to suit Cas’ needs, namely a construction that allowed him to carry the angelblade with him, concealed in the right sleeve of the jacket. The first version of that had been installed in a trench coat that Cas had found in a thrift shop, but he’d discarded the coat very soon; people often mistook him for a tax accountant when he tried to impersonate a FBI agent, and that wasn’t really helpful.

“You Cas?” Ash spoke up before Cas had the chance to. So he just nodded and sat down.

“Okay, good. I’m Ash, but I guess you already know that. Damn, Garth did say he would sent someone who was easy to spot, but you really take the cake. Anyway. The case. How much do you know?”

Cas fidgeted a bit and looked around the diner. He didn’t like to discuss these things in open environments; you never knew who was listening in.

“Do we have to do this here?” he asked.

“No time like the present, man. Besides, nobody will pay attention, whatever’s happened is the talk of the town anyway, so it’s not like we’ll stick out.”

Cas sighed again, then gestured for the waitress to order a coffee.

“Okay, so here’s what I know: there have been various incidents over the last two weeks. Two weddings, both ending in murder, the animals are behaving weird – something like a wolf fighting a deer? – and suddenly  the four or five largest families try to put up at least one of their family members for mayor. And for some reason, that leads to a near constant state of war, but there’s nobody to stop that? Also, someone said they saw dragons on the other side of the lake?”

Ash had nodded more and more the longer Cas spoke. He was drumming his fingers  on the table, and looked at Cas like there was just one final piece missing, and he was sure that Cas would say it – only, Cas didn’t.

“Oh, come ooooon, Cas. I mean, it’s obvious, isn’t it?”

“LSD in the tap water? Because I have to tell you, I haven’t seen something like this before, ever. Never even heard of that kind of shit. You sure Rhode Island isn’t one of the states that have legalized pot and something has gone horribly wrong?”

Ash leaned over the table and gestured Cas to do the same.

“No, man… nothing like that. I’m not sure why nobody else has noticed but… what do you know about George R. R. Martin?”


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

“You have got to be fucking kidding me,” Cas leaned back and closed his eyes for a second.

“No, I’m serious. Really. It all fits together. The Red Wedding, the Purple Wedding… even though, whoever made this is not really consistent with their source, because they mix up book stuff and tv show stuff. But, come on, didn’t you notice?”

“I’ve never read the books. Or watched the show. Is this a prank? I swear to god if Garth did all this to prank me I’m gonna rip his balls to shreds,” Cas tried to stand up, but was halted by Ash’s grip.

“I’m not kidding, Cas. I swear to the old gods and the new…,” he watched Cas’ face for a second, then shrugged. “This shit’s really lost on you, isn’t it? That’s kinda hilarious, really. And Garth said you’d be one of the best hunters there are. He forgot to tell me you’re illiterate.”

“I’m not illiterate, fuck you,” Cas pulled his arm from Ash’s grip, “I just refuse to suffer through thousands of pages just because everyone else is doing it. Especially because I’m practically harassed by others to read it. Not really encouraging behavior, I have to tell you.”

Ash held up his hands and nodded.

“Sorry, man. It’s just… Westeros, man. Westerly. Weddings. The deer and the wolf. It’s like someone targeted this city to make a fan’s dream come true and everything went wrong.”

Cas said nothing for a few moments. In a weird way, Ash’s arguments made sense – and weird was his daily bread, so he was hesitant to just ignore what the man had said, no matter how impossible it sounded.

“I’m not saying you’re not right,” he finally said, stopping Ash before he could say anything, “but I think we need to keep other options open. I don’t think there’s much that has the power to do this kind of stuff. I mean, altering reality? Influencing people’s behavior, maybe even creating additional people or whatever happened… that takes some serious juju. I’m not saying it’s not manageable, but well… I guess we’ll have to ask Bobby about that one, see if he’s got any ideas, because short of a trickster, I don’t have a clue.”

Ash nodded and toyed with his baseball cap for a moment.

“And if… if it’s a trickster, whatever that is… can you kill it? And what is going to happen to the people who died? You said they can alter reality… so… hypothetically, can they also un-dead people?”

Cas sighed. Ash seemed to have a talent in sniffing out the really tough questions.

“Hypothetically, yes. If they died in the alternate reality and not in the real reality, they probably could. The only question is if the trickster is gonna do it. Honestly, I wouldn’t bet on it. Especially when we don’t even know if it really is a trickster. We should probably find out if there were any chocolate wrappers or that kind of thing found at the crime scenes…” he trailed off for a second when he saw that Ash opened his laptop again and began typing.

A few seconds later, Ash’s head re-appeared from behind the screen again.

“Nope, no candy wrappers, as far as the police reports go. They are not all in yet, especially not from the last murder scene, and one of the deputies already got reprimanded for being late. I’m not quite sure if that will make him work faster or slower, to be honest, but I’ll get an alert if the report is entered into the data server.”

Cas raised his eyebrows.

“You hacked into the police data server? Just like that? Exactly how good are you with that thing?”

Ash laughed proudly.

“I’m not saying I’m the best… but, well. I’m good enough to help you with some stuff, I guess. Are candy wrappers the only irregularity to look out for? Because if they’re not, I can probably access stores and whatever to see if there is anything going on that’s, you know…. Not natural?”

Cas squinted, going through his internal list of weird shit that signified ‘monster’.

“Can you just look for anomalies in general? Like, anything that’s unusual. At the moment I can’t come up with anything definite, so I’d say we just look out for anything that strikes as weird.”

Ash nodded and typed again, this time only to note down some parameters he wanted to employ later. Cas watched him and couldn’t help but think that somebody like Ash was definitely convenient.  He wondered if Dean and Sam had someone like that. Maybe they did it themselves? If they did, Cas bet all his money on Sam; not because he was generally smarter, but because Dean – while he was no stranger to modern technology – seemed completely happy with a tapedeck and music from three or two decade ago. The only thing Dean used the internet for was porn, at least that was the picture Cas had gotten over the time. Maybe it had changed, but he had no way of knowing that.

“Man, you still here?” Cas came to when Ash waved a hand before his face.

“Yeah, sorry. Did you say something?”

“I said there’s not much use sitting around here right now. I need some time to figure out how to search for ‘anything that strikes as weird’, because I tell you, man, that’s not exactly helpful. So why don’t you go your merry way, doing whatever else you do on such a case, and I’ll call you if I find anything. Kay?”

Cas nodded his agreement and stood up. Ash was right, there were things he could do – investigate further, take a look at the crime scenes, talk to people. Maybe call Bobby and ask him about tricksters.

He paid for both Ash’s and his drinks, then went back to his motel room to change into his suit. He debated first talking to some people and then calling Bobby, but changed his mind and picked up his phone. If Bobby knew anything, it could be helpful while he was interviewing people, so it was only logical to call him first; and it had nothing to do with a sudden case of homesickness.

The phone was picked up after the third ring, and for once it was really Bobby and not Garth who answered.

“Hey Cas. Good to talk to you, son,” Bobby said after they had greeted each other. “How’s the case going?”

Cas shrugged, before he answered verbally.

“It’s pretty weird shit, Garth got that right. But honestly, I have no fucking clue. Short of everyone going crazy about these ice and fire books, there’s not much.”

Before he could continue, he was interrupted by Bobby’s laugh.

“You have to see the irony in that, don’t you, Cas? Garth sent you there because you’re one of the best hunters we have, and yet you need help because it seems to be about the one series of books you refuse to read.”

“I am aware of that, yes, thank you,” Cas bit out.

“You know, I could call someone who is more… into the topic? I’m sure Dean and Sam-“

“I don’t need help,” Cas interrupted harsher than he meant to. But the last thing he wanted was to meet Dean and Sam again because he wasn’t able to deal with a case himself.

“Well, I don’t need their help, anyway. But maybe yours? I guess we’re looking for something that is able to alter reality. And I mean, seriously. There’s a whole bunch of people who are dead, and some of them don’t turn up in any birth registers, it’s like they didn’t actually exist before they were killed. Somebody said something about seeing a dragon, but that could be your usual nutjob. So it can’t be a djinn, because they don’t really alter reality.”

“What about a trickster?”

“I thought about that, but there are no signs of one anywhere. No candy wrappers at least. Ash is looking for any other anomalies that could give us a lead, but he has only started, that means so far we’ve got nothing. And I can’t think about anything else that’s strong enough to do that kind of thing.”

“Crossroad demons, what about them? I’m not sure if they can alter reality that much, but they sure as hell are able to do something. Making people more powerful, successful. Healing people.”

“Well, if it is one, someone sure has a fucked up sense of adventure. Wishing for their favourite fantasy book to happen… at least that’s the only thing that seems likely. Doesn’t look like one is out to collect their debts. I’ll look for something, thanks Bobby.”

“Take care, son.”

Cas hung up and sighed. A crossroads demon was possible, but somehow it didn’t feel right.  But still, he would look for a fitting place to summon one, after he was done interviewing people.

He stood up to get his dress shirt, before he went into the bathroom. Only a few weeks ago, he’d gotten a new tattoo; a dagger on his left forearm. It had seemed fitting, considering that blades were his favorite weapon and that he stored two of them in his sleeves. The tattoo healed up good, but as always with new ones, Cas needed some time to get used to it until the newness wore away. This one was also nice to look at, and once more Cas was captivated by the details of it. Then he got finally dressed and drove away.

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five**

 

Interviewing people had brought Cas exactly nothing, except for deep frustration and exhaustion. When he returned to his motel room, he shed his clothes and took a shower before going over the statements once again.

The people that were killed, but didn’t exist before were remembered by their family (fake family?) as though they had lived with them for years, and when Cas brought up the missing information about them, he had mostly been met with a deep belief that there had been a fault somewhere. One woman had started to scream at him, lecturing him about private sphere and government spies, and it had taken a lot of effort to calm her down again.

But that had been the only outburst of the day, and while the families of the dead people were devastated, they didn’t seem too concerned about the fact that there had been murders.

“They happen all the time, that’s how it’s always been done here. Rising criminality is not exactly new, is it?” one man had said to him.

Cas was stumped. It was all way too weird for even his liking, and he just couldn’t seem to make anything out of it. There wasn’t much to do now except for waiting, so he took his weapons out of the hidden compartment of his trunk and took them inside to clean.

Two beers and several annoying reality tv-shows later, most of his guns had been cleaned and Cas grabbed his swords. Sharpening his tantos always held a special kind of calmness for him; the monotonous sound of it lulled him in and he could let his mind wander without risking getting stuck on an endless loop of ‘Why did I leave Dean?’.

Instead he thought about the case, about things Ash could search for. It bugged him that he couldn’t think of any monster who could do something like that; sometimes he needed a few days to come up with an answer, but even then he’d normally had something to go on from the first day. Now he had nothing. Zilch. Nada.

He considered calling Aundrea for help, but their last meeting had ended on a weird note. Not a bad one, but it had been… something else.

_“You know,” Aundrea said and let her beer bottle clink against Cas’ newly opened one. “I’m sorry for what I did, I really am.”_

_They had met up at one of these spots that were probably considered kissing spots by the teenaged public of the area. From where they sat on the front of Cas’ Galaxie, they could look down on the nearest city. The sunset was in full swing, the first lights blinking up in the sky, and the radio played one of the mixtapes Dean had given Cas years ago._

_“What?! You’re sorry for what you did when?” Cas asked, slightly confused._

_“For how I treated you when I trained you,” Aundrea said, as if they had talked about that all along, and not about hunts gone wrong in a funny way._

_“You didn’t… what? I don’t understand.”_

_“I wasn’t a good teacher. I mean, you’re still alive so that means Bobby’s and my training must’ve done something good, but I wasn’t a good teacher. A good person. I was mean to you, and I attacked you and that wasn’t okay, and I’m sorry for that. I don’t want to make excuses, but I do want to apologize. I’m sorry.”_

_“Uhm,” Cas hesitated for a second and looked at Aundrea, “Apology accepted, because I don’t think you’ll believe me when I say there’s nothing to be sorry for. So – apology accepted, okay?”_

_Aundrea nodded, and then smiled. Her real smile, tiny, hardly to be seen, but there; and worlds away from the shark-like grin she offered someone before she wiped the floor with them._

_They hadn’t talked much after that, and when the moon rose above the city, they both went their own ways._

Cas sighed and put away the last tanto. He grabbed his angel blade and balanced it on both hands. Over the years, he had collected a variety of tantos to fight with, each with its own speciality to it. Some he had found and bought, others he had paid people to make them; but no matter how good he fought with them, none of them was as good as his angel blade. It didn’t even need sharpening, which was both peculiar and convenient, so Cas usually only cleaned it until it glimmered in the half-light of the motel room.

He stared at it for a while, before he got up and moved. There had to be something that could grant wishes, beside a crossroad demon. There just had to be. “Fulfilling wishes. What grants wishes?” he murmured to himself and started pacing the room.

Maybe he was going at it from the wrong angle – he was mostly thinking about anything that was approached by people and then got something out of granting wishes, a certain price; like a soul in ten years’ time, for example.

He needed to talk to someone, and fast. He grabbed his phone and dialed “weird computer guy” because he hadn’t come around to renaming the number to “Ash”. When he heard him pick up, he didn’t wait for a greeting.

“I need you to come to the motel, as fast as you can. I’ll get beer, you get food. Nothing with fish, I almost stepped on a fish once, when I was younger. I hate fish,” then he hung up again, barely waiting for Ash to okay his orders.

Seconds later, he called Ash again, “And bring your computer stuff, we’re gonna need it.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

 

It took some time for Ash to arrive, and by then Cas had not only drank two of the beers he bought, but had also started to draw on the sheets of paper he had pinned against the wall. Letting Ash in was more like an afterthought than a real action for him, but Ash took it in stride; setting up his gear at the table and patiently waiting for Cas to snap out of it and talk to him.

“I brought food, it’s Chinese,” he said after a while.

Cas hesitated for a second, nodded to himself and walked over to Ash, grabbing one of the takeout containers.

“So, I thought,” he started and shoveled a terrifying amount of fried rice in his mouth, “it could be a Leprechaun. I think we were going at it from the wrong angle. We were looking for a monster that fulfils wishes in return for goods, right? Like a crossroads demon – you get ten years with whatever you wish for, but after that you and your soul are toast. But what if the granted wishes are not in exchange for a good, but for freedom? If you catch a Leprechaun, it grants you three wishes if you release it. Nobody gets harmed in the process, well at least not the wisher or the one who grants the wishes. So maybe that’s why we didn’t pick up on anything except for the whole Game of Thrones stuff, and that’s already the wishes. No mysterious sudden deaths, just normal still-mysterious-but-different deaths.”

Ash continued to stare at him for a while, before he said, “So, what do you need me for? You seem to have it all figured out. How do we kill it?”1

“I need you to look some stuff up. And I needed someone to talk to; I can’t think when I’m not talking aloud. The weird shit started to happen about three weeks ago, right? So, can you check if there were any rainbows in the last three weeks? Or better make it four. If there are rainbows, there’s Leprechauns. Killing it won’t break what’s happening, but if we can catch it, we can wish to reverse what’s been happening. And maybe threaten it a bit, so it won’t grant stupid, dangerous stuff anymore. I need to check with Bobby how to kill it, it’s probably a good idea to kill it after it granted us the wishes. Torching it will probably seal the deal.”

“You are so fucking disturbing sometimes, seriously,” Ash said in disbelief, but started typing and pulling up charts. He didn’t realize the hurt on Cas’ face, to distracted with his task.

Cas sat on the bed and opened another beer.

The thing was – he’d never chosen to be that way; prone to violence and disturbing for civilians. All that anger that pooled in his chest, the sadness, the longing; none of it had been his choice. It was almost funny, when he thought about it. Though he was sometimes prone to showing his emotions a bit too freely, he was generally regarded by his friends and family as someone who had himself in check, who didn’t explode or felt anything too deeply.

The problem, he figured, was that he’d learn to hide what he felt, from a very young age on. When his dad had been still alive, when he was younger, he’d realized that his dad got home with more scrapes and wounds when Cas showed his fear before Don left. When he hid his fear, Don got off okay, mostly. So Cas tried not to show his fear anymore, because he was even more afraid that his dad could die only because he wasn’t able to master his fear.

It had been very superstitious, and Cas knew that. But in his line of work, even superstition was something that shouldn’t be taken easily. Even though it was more likely Don had gotten hurt when Cas was scared because he’d had other things on mind than hunting (like worrying about his son), Cas still refused to this day to admit that it hadn’t had anything to do with rituals and tradition – and superstition, of course.

And for little Cas, not even ten years old at that time, the decision had been made. It wasn’t anything dramatic like that Cas had stopped feeling altogether – he’d just learned to hide it pretty well.

Maybe that had been his mistake with Dean, he figured. Maybe he should have showed what he felt, even if that meant maneuvering himself in a vulnerable position.

“There’s nothing,” Ash’s voice pulled Cas out of his thoughts brutally.

“What do you mean, nothing?”

“There’s nothing there. No rainbows, hell, there’s not the slightest change of weather these last few weeks, except for the fact that there seems to be something like a continually rain-spewing cloud over a place called Castamere, and heh, good thinking. Whoever did this sure as hell has a lot of fantasy.”

“What?”

“It’s because… oh my god, you know what, forget it. Or read the books. Anyway, no rainbows. Does that mean there’s no Leprechaun?”

Cas sighed and fought the urge to throw his bottle at the wall. No Leprechauns.

“Fuck and I thought we had it. So we’re back to square one. Great. I’m really starting to hate this case.”

Ash squinted at his laptop, clearly hesitating, before he started speaking again.

“Well, not necessarily… I mean, I’m not the expert here, but I did some digging. I might have found something and it’s very weird. I also searched the internet for stuff and maybe what I found makes more sense. I mean, it’s not hard to find anything that makes more sense than what I’ve found so it’s not exactly very useful, I think, but anyways, I’m new at this monster stuff, right?”

“So, what did you find? And why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

“Because I thought you knew what we were searching, and anyway, I was more like… compiling a list. There are not just creatures that grant wishes. There’s also lore about objects – jewels and trees and there’s also djinns…”

“Djinns don’t work in the Disney-way, sorry,” Cas interrupted, “And for the other stuff… that’s a lot of Indian and Asian lore, right? I mean, I’m not saying that I’ve never killed creatures that didn’t fit our cultural lore, but that sounds far-fetched. I’m not completely dodging your ideas here, okay? It just doesn’t feel right. But you were talking about really weird stuff you’ve found? What was that?”

“Well, you said to search for any anomalies, right? So I wrote a program, nothing big, that followed up on different things; generally what was sold in the last few weeks in which quantity and stuff like that. And what I found was this,” he turned the laptop so that Cas could look at it.

After a few moments it was pretty clear that Cas didn’t know what to do with it, so he began explaining.

“This part here, it’s for music. Which albums or singles were sold. And that one is for movies, either rented or sold, or watched online, legally and illegally. And while it’s mostly pretty average, there’s one thing – or person – missing entirely.”

He waited a few seconds for the dramatic effect –

“Celine Dion. And Titanic. I mean, not that I don’t approve of not buying Celine Dion’s music, and I don’t like the film much, but I searched a bit more, and in this town, it’s like the Titanic never actually sunk. There are no books about it, no movies, no music. Nothing. For all that it matters to this town, everything went perfect, the ship arrived safely and everyone was happy.”

Cas stared at him.

“Told you it was weird, “Ash said and shrugged. “So whatever we’re looking for, it hates the Titanic movie and Celine very, very much.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven**

 

“Are you sure about that?” Cas asked after a few beats of silence.

Not that he had an epiphany about a monster that hated Celione Dion, but loved gory fantasy novels; but it never hurt to make sure.

“Pretty sure, yeah,” Ash answered, “I mean it’s not like I expected to find massive sales of the movie or the music. But it made me curious, so I widened the search to include youtube hits and that kind of stuff. I mean, the movie is a huge pop culture thing, even teenagers nowadays still know about it. So there shoulda been at least some hits for, I don’t know, the sex scene in the car or some video about mistakes in the movie or whatever. But it’s like you can’t have access to that when you’re in this town. I’d love to drive outside of town and see what I can come up with.”

Cas emptied his beer and rolled the bottle in his hand.

“Even if you’re right and this city has somehow restricted access to the Titanic movie or whatever this is… I’ve never heard about a monster in my life that has these kinds of… I don’t even know what to call it.”

He laid his head back for a second and sighed.

“Jesus, of all the cases that could’ve been assigned to me, I get the one that is even way too weird for me. That just fucking figures,” he mumbled before he straightened himself again.

“You know, we could call the Winchesteres, I bet they would be helpful,” Ash suggested.

“We do NOT need their help!” Cas had raised his voice without noticing it. “We don’t need anyone’s help. We got this. We will solve this case just like every other case. You will not, under no circumstances, contact the Winchesters. Is that understood?”

Ash nodded hesitantly.

“Dude, Bobby did definitely not exaggerate when he warned me about mentioning them,” he said in a quiet voice, not definitely aimed at Cas. Then, louder: “So what are we gonna do now, huh?”

Cas grabbed another beer and opened it.

“Easy. You will do nothing, and I will summon a crossroads demon.”

Silence passed between them while Ash stared at Cas like he’d lost his mind.

“Are you serious? You just want to go out there and summon a _demon_?”

Cas shrugged, acting bolder than he felt. Even though his life as a hunter had led him to various different monsters, demons weren’t really his expertise. Normally, those cases were assigned to other hunters, almost always to –

 _Dean and Sam. God, I probably could really use their help,_ Cas thought bitterly. But he wouldn’t call on them, he wouldn’t. As much as it hurt him, he’d made himself the promise that he would only meet them again if he was okay with himself again. And as much as he’d already gotten better these last few years, he was far from being okay again. So he had to tackle this one alone – if it really was a crossroads demon.

“I know what to do, Ash. It’s not that hard,” he said, more to reassure himself than Ash. He knew how to summon a demon, in theory. He had never been in a situation when it was actually acquired.

“So, you’re gonna summon a demon, and then what? Make a deal with it?”

Cas shook his head.

“No, I’m gonna trap it. Threaten it, see if it is responsible for what is going on here. Then I’ll just release it again, and nobody wil be harmed,” he explained.

Ash still looked as if he doubted pretty much everything Cas had just said, but he didn’t contradict the hunter anymore. After all, Cas was the one who was used to all this crap.

“But I do need your help first. Can you find me a crossroad, in an area that is not very much frequented? A place where I can draw the trap would be also good. And there should be yarrow growing around the crossroads. Got that?”

Ash nodded and once more moved for his computer, while Cas cleared away the remains of their dinner. It didn’t take long for Ash to find a spot that met all of Cas’ criteria.

“Thanks. I’ll get it set up tomorrow afternoon, and when it gets dark, I’ll summon the demon. I will call you afterwards to tell you what I found, okay?” Cas tried an encouraging smile, but didn’t really succeed.

They sat and talked for a while, Ash clearly interested in everything he could learn about hunting. The longer they talked, the more Cas was sure that he would be a valuable asset for their little ragtag team of hunters. Maybe he’d ask Ash if he wanted to settle at the Roadhouse – if Ellen would allow It, that was.

After a few hours, Ash headed home and Cas went to sleep.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter Eight**

It took Cas almost the whole afternoon to prep the crossroads correctly. He’d spent the morning reading up on demons again, practiced exorcisms, and selected two of his tantos. He took his father’s blade (for luck, and because it worked against demons) and the one Dean had given to him all those years ago. He’d sharpened Dean’s carefully – the one he had inherited from his father seemed to never get blunt, and he had long ago given up on trying to sharpen it.

He finished drawing the last of the various traps when the sun set on the horizon. The place Ash had selected was close to an abandoned factory on the outskirts of the town, and the way the shadows became gradually longer and the light darker and redder gave Cas the chills. He was one of the best hunters in business, had seen his fair share of monsters, but nature still managed to creep him out.

Cas had prepared the little box with his picture and everything else beforehand, so the only thing left to do was to dig a hole and bury the box. He kneeled down to do exactly that as he heard the sound of fluttering wings, before a voice with a slight British accent spoke to him.

“I wouldn’t do that, Castiel.”

Cas dropped into a crouch and his hands went to his weapons. When he looked up, a man stood across the road. He was dressed in well-fitting jeans and a v-neck t-shirt that had a stupidly deep neckline. He looked slightly concerned.

Cas stood up slowly, the box lying forgotten on the ground. Both of his tantos were now in his hands, and he examined the man carefully. He couldn’t be a demon, at least not a crossroads demon. But apart from that, he could be literally anything else. And the fact that he knew Cas’ name was worrying.

“Using your father’s blade, I see,” the stranger said, “such a pity he had to leave humankind behind so early, really. We had plans for him, you know. Big plans.”

“Who the fuck are you?” Cas bit out against everything else he wanted to ask. He wasn’t a careless person, but the need to ask about his father nearly overcame the need to remain on guard.

“The name’s Balthazar. I am your guardian angel.” The man – Balthazar, apparently – shifted his body, probably in an attempt to look bigger than he was.

Cas stared at him.

Balthazar shuffled again, obviously not getting the expected response.

Cas continued to stare.

“Okay, so you’re obviously not the falling to the knees and praising the lord- kind of guy, are you? Let me explain again: I am an angel. Your guardian angel, to be exact, and I expect a certain amount of respect to be carried out. So, if you want to do something to show your respect, now would be a lovely time for that, really.”

Cas started laughing. It started slowly and almost too quiet to hear, but a few seconds later, he was almost howling. He couldn’t really help it; as much as he was putting himself in a vulnerable position by not being on guard anymore, this guy was just… now he was looking really put out, to be honest.

“I’m bigger than the Chrysler Building in my true size, you know,” he said, sounding almost hurt.

“That’s what he said,” Cas managed to get out between two bouts of laughter. Maybe he was getting insane. Maybe he had lost his mind months ago but hadn’t noticed it, and now he was starting to hallucinate.

“Your father was much more humble when his guardian angel appeared.”

“So my dad had one, too, huh?”

“Of course he did, you are, well, in his case, were… both warriors of heaven.”

“I am what now?”

Balthazar sighed and rolled his eyes, mumbling something about how he obviously got the thick one.

Cas threw him an offended look. Somehow this was so surreal to him that he didn’t even try to think about what was happening, or that he should summon a crossroads demon instead of talking to someone who was clearly completely out of their mind. And who knew about Cas’ blade, and his father and…

“Who the fuck are you, and what do you know about my dad?” He then asked, because he decided that even if this man – Balthazar, his mind supplied – came here to kill him, or do whatever people did when they thought they were angels, it couldn’t hurt to try and find out if Balthazar actually knew his father. Or why he knew Cas’ name.

“Is your hearing somehow impaired or are you deliberately stupid? I am your guardian angel, and I am here now because you were about to do something so very stupid that I would have to kill you for it. Come to think of, it’s actually not my job to off you; I guess it would fall to one of my siblings.”

Cas gripped his tantos tighter once again. This guy talked about killing him like it was no big deal, and he didn’t like that at all. Balthazar’s eyes sprang to Cas’ weapons. He raised both of his hands, but also stepped closer to Cas’.

“I am not here to hurt you. Also, your weapons can’t hurt me… well, that one could but the other one? The one that lovely Dean gave you? Won’t work on-“

In hindsight, Cas was not sure why his hunter instincts decided to kick in in that exact moment. Maybe because the man mentioned Dean’s name, maybe it was because the shock had worn off. Whatever it was, without thinking, he raised Dean’s tanto and rammed it into the man’s chest.

Nothing happened.

Balthazar frowned, then shrugged. He pulled the tanto out of his chest without flinching and threw it to the ground.

“You are _really_ not the respectful type. Although I do have to thank Dad that you didn’t use the angel blade. Come to think of, I guess it’s better if I take that for a while.”

He moved faster than Cas had ever seen anyone move, and not even a second later, Balthazar was twirling the blade like it was no big deal, like he didn’t just unhand Cas so fast that the hunter wasn’t even sure what happened.

Cas sprang back a few steps and started to recite an exorcism, but again – nothing happened.

“Wrong species. Also, there are no exorcisms for angels, hate to break it to you.”

“There are no angels,” Cas disagreed. “I’ve prayed to them for years, and none ever came. _No one_ came.”

“How are you even still alive, you thick-headed person? You wear your father’s blade, an angel blade. You come from a long line of warriors of heaven, and yet you don’t even know angels exist? Why do you choose to ignore everything your family taught you?”

“NO ONE EVER TAUGHT ME ANYTHING!” Cas screamed. “My whole family is _dead_!”

Balthazar winced. “Of course they are. I’m sorry. I forgot.”

“You forgot _what_? Who _are_ you?”

“This is… I’m sorry. Let me show you.” Balthazar stepped forward and put a hand against Cas’ forehead. Before he could defend himself, pictures flashed before his eyes.

 

* * *

 

sooo, the cat's out of the bag... what do you think about Balthazar? If you want to talk to me/ yell at me/ etc, you can find me, as always, on [tumblr](http://thefreakfox.tumblr.com).


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter Nine**

 

_Cas’ father stood in a lonely field. The sun was setting. Before him stood a woman. The shadow behind her had wings. Don and the woman talked, and he fell to his knees, head bent down._

_Don stood in a house and looked down on a crib. The baby inside had a shock of black hair and radiant blue eyes. Don smiled. He looked up, as if he heard something, and in the reflection of the window, Cas could see the woman from before. Balthazar stood beside her._

_“I want to get out. I have a family now, a son. He will not grow up like this. You can’t make me,” Don’s voice sounded angry. The woman shook her head._  
“You are a warrior of heaven. You are God’s force of good on earth. You are not to associate with evil. This is your calling. You can’t refuse, or go back.”  
“Watch me.”

 _Don stood at a crossroad. Yarrow grew all around him. He was digging a hole._  
The woman appeared again.  
“Don’t do this, Adonai.  We will have to kill you.”  
Don looked up. Tears were streaming down his face.  
“You took her from me. You won’t take him, too. This is my choice.”  
“You will die. Either because the demon will come to collect its debt, or the forces of heaven will smite you. And your son will be left alone, without a father, without a mother. He will grow up lonely, and bitter, and will never know love.”  
“And I’ll make sure he’ll never know about hunting. About anything. He will grow up a normal kid. You will never find him. I made sure of that. I’ll gladly die if I know he is going to be safe.”  
With that, he dropped the box in the hole.  
A white flash appeared, and when it was dark again, Don lay on the ground, lifeless.

The pictures stopped, and Cas stumbled backwards, falling over his own feet. He turned around and threw up on the ground.

“What… was that?” He coughed out.

“The story of how your father became a warrior, and fell in love with a woman. Said woman birthed you. And because of you, your father wanted to… get out. But being a warrior is a full-time job. You can’t get out of that. Your mother… died, so he wanted to stop the life of a hunter altogether, to care for you. He couldn’t, but he tried, especially after he knew you would have the same fate. He carved a rune in your body, so we wouldn’t be able to find you. Then he drove to a crossroads, to make a deal with a demon, to erase himself and everything you had seen from your memory, so you could grow up a normal child. But warriors of heaven are not allowed to deal with creatures of hell. He knew that, but he tried anyways. He was killed. We couldn’t find you for a long time, Castiel.”

Balthazar looked almost apologetic after he had stopped talking. Cas stared at him in disbelief, and it took him some minutes to find his footing again.

“So…. Angels,” he said. One part of his mind was weirdly happy – he’d always known that there had to be something, especially after he’d found out about demons. It had seemed wrong, having demons, but not angels. The other parts of his mind were just confused. And over all of that lay a heavy sense of sadness. He had spent years of being angry about his dad just dying, leaving him alone. But if Balthazar was saying the truth – and Cas had accepted that he was – his father had died trying to save him.

“Yes, angels. Can we get this show on the road, now?”

Cas shot Balthazar a dirty look, and the man… the angel… his guardian angel? had the decency to look down. Balthazar sighed, and then came closer. He looked earnest, although a bit stressed out.

“Castiel. I know this is much, and believe me, I would have loved to get an easier case, but my father… how do you humans say it? He works in mysterious ways. So what do you say we take this to a lovelier place so we can talk somewhere that won’t get me stains on my trousers when I sit down?”

Again, he moved his hand towards Cas’ face, but he was prepared this time and ducked away before Balthazar could touch him.

“Do not touch me again. And that’s mine,” Cas said and ripped the angel blade out of Balthazar’s hand.

“I can get that back in a matter of seconds, you know,” Balthazar said sulkily.

“I don’t care. It’s mine, and you said it can kill you. So I’m keeping it. And now I am going to my car and I will drive back to my motel. You can come with me. If you don’t want to, I don’t care.”

With that, Cas marched over to where Balthazar had dropped his tanto, picked it up together with the box he had prepared earlier, and headed back to his Galaxie. He felt a bit better already because he had managed to get one over on the angel.

“And I had such a lovely beach picked out already,” Balthazar murmured, but followed Cas to the car nonetheless.

The drive to the motel was silent, especially after Balthazar had tried to put on music, but had received a slap on the hand for it with the angel blade; Cas wasn’t going to let the angel think he was kidding around.

After they went inside, Cas went straight to the fridge to grab a beer. He had a feeling he was going to need one. Balthazar sighed longingly after he had taken the first sip.

“It’s a shame, really, that I can’t get drunk. I would need a whole liquor store, at least. Can you believe it? But you don’t mind me taking one, do you?”

He moved to the fridge to get one out, but Cas’ voice stopped him.

“Yes, I actually do mind. Get your own.”

Balthazar threw his hands up and rolled his eyes.

“You know what? I will do that.”

With that, he vanished. Before Cas had the time to think about the fact that God had sent him an especially dramatic guardian angel, Balthazar was back again, clutching what looked like at least five six-packs of beer.

“What? You said to get my own,” he answered to Cas’ raised eyebrow. He opened a bottle and took a careful look at the couch before he sat down. Cas still leaned against the table, his arms crossed.

“So. Angels,” he began.

“Yes, you said that already,” Balthazar interrupted him.

“Would you shut up? How would you feel if your whole world got turned upside down in a matter of seconds, huh?”

Balthazar opened his mouth, trying for a comeback, but hesitated.

“Good point, actually,” he then said.

“You said earlier that my father put… a rune on my body? And you couldn’t find me after that?”

“Yes, exactly. Glad you seem to be keeping up. Somehow, it got destroyed years later, and we could see you again. But there wasn’t any need to come and get you instantly, so I was recruited to watch over you until the time came. We’d probably never have met if you hadn’t been about to do something as stupid as summon a demon.”

“Excuse me for trying to crack a case, here,” Cas mumbled.

“Ah, yeah, the case. Lovely, innit?” Balthazar said not without pride.

“How do you like it? I thought the touch with the cloud was especially ingenious, if I say so myself. I also took the time to erase the greatest evil the world has ever seen.”

“What evil? And wait… you did this?”

“What do you think I mean? Celine Dion, of course. Dreadful voice. And don’t get me started on the movie. I have never seen such a rubbish since the time that one tribe in East Anglia got a horrible cave painter. I think it was around 40,000 BC. That guy had not the slightest clue about interior design, can you believe it? And his dimensions were just- ”

Cas, who got slightly tired of just staring in disbelief, chose to interrupt the angel in favor of repeating his question.

“The case, Balthazar. What did you do?”

“Oh, it was nothing, really. A small contest amongst brothers. Who would be able to create the better real-life adaptation of a TV series. Gabe chose Dr Sexy, M.D. and is currently being hunted by your lovely crush and his puppy brother, I belief. Though they think he is a trickster. I guess it’s Gabe’s penchant for sweets that tipped them off.”

“I don’t believe you,” Cas said, choosing to ignore the repeated mentioning of Dean.

“Ah, not talking about sweet, sweet Dean? I didn’t think it was still a touchy subject for you.”

Balthazar smiled wickedly and emptied his first beer.

“People died because of your stupid game and you want to talk about my- about… you are crazy!”

“No one died, love. Well, at least no one that was real. But I’m sorry, I can’t just stop. I will lose the game if I- oh, okay, why not.”

Balthazar took the angel blade that now stuck in the back rest (very close to his head) out of the stuffing and placed it on the kitchen table.

“You are no fun, has anyone ever told you that?” He said, then snapped with his fingers. “I believe I lost our game, dear brother,” he then called into the room.

A few seconds later, the sound of wings filled the air again and a small, slightly chubby man appeared next to Balthazar on the couch.

“You owe me 50 bucks, bro,” the man said, before he saw Cas standing in the room. “Why, hello there, sexy. And who are you?”

“He is my charge, and I thank you not to touch him. He is the serious type, I think,” Balthazar answered and grabbed his brother (?) before he could stand up and go over to Cas.

“Are all angels deranged?” Cas asked.

“Uuuh, feisty. This is going to be so much fun, Balthy. Well, at least for me. It’s been fun, kids, really, but I gotta go now. I’ve got a delicious specimen to stalk. Huge shoulders, tiny waist, and wonderful long hair. Fifty bucks, bro, don’t forget it. Cheers!”

With that, the man vanished.

“Who the fuck was that?” Cas asked.

“My brother Gabriel. He’s supposed to be one of the arch angels, but I guess he’s been living as a trickster for too long.”

“Arch angel. That was an _arch angel_?”


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter Ten**

 

When the morning came, Cas was not really closer to understanding everything Balthazar told him. Their discussion had lasted long into the night, only interrupted by the appearance of Ash, who had stormed into the motel room, wanting to bring the news that whatever had happened had apparently erased the situation Westerly had been in. He had left an hour later, looking a bit dazed.

Now the first rays of sunlight came through the window, and Cas was really drunk. Balthazar was working on the last remaining six-pack, telling a story of how he had tried to persuade Picasso to leave Cubism alone, and didn’t seem to realize that his charge was close to falling asleep.

“And then I said to him, Pablo, I said, my good man – only I said that in Spanish, not English. The gift of the tongues. Comes in really handy. Anyway, I tried to tell him that he wasted his God-given talent… and isn’t that a joke? My dad wasted all this talent on Picasso, and the man goes and invents Cubism!”

“So, you can just appear to people and tell them what to do?”

“Well, I can certainly try. As you can see now all over the world, it didn’t work with dear old Pablo. He took the existence of angels much better than van Gogh. You wouldn’t believe the mess it makes when someone cuts their ear off… but at least he didn’t go crazy like poor Jeanne. I miss that girl.”

“Jeanne?”

“Jeanne d’Arc. Don’t be daft, keep up. I’m changing your views of history and you can’t even manage to follow me. How did I end up with such a daft git? I bet Samandriel was trying to piss me off because I cheated on poker some fifty years ago.”

Cas threw a bottle at Balthazar, but missed.

“Now, don’t get agitated, dear Cassie.”

“It’s not fair you get to give me nicknames and I don’t. I should call you Bart.”

“No, you really shouldn’t.”

“Anyway, what am I supposed to do now? I can’t just drive home and tell my family that angels are stupid people and that there wasn’t really a case but instead I am now a warrior of heaven. It’s a good thing I’m gay, at least I won’t have to worry about giving this shit to my children.”

“It’s a good thing God is utterly indifferent to sexual orientation, or I would have to smite you.”

“Boooo, I’m dangerous Bart, and if you like buttsex, I will smite you! Boooo!” Cas waved his arms around, lost his balance and fell from the chair.

When Balthazar walked over to him to see if he was okay, Cas had fallen asleep. Balthazar shook his head and touched Cas’ forehead. The least he could do was heal his charge from the terrible headache he would have had tomorrow. Nobody deserved a hangover after such a day.

“I won’t carry you to bed, though. You’re too old for that,” he told the sleeping hunter.

Then he sat down on the couch and turned on the TV.

***

Cas woke in the mid-afternoon to the smell of pancakes and bacon. He was disoriented for a second, feeling the rug underneath his head instead of a pillow. Then everything came back to him. He sat up and looked at Balthazar, who just put a table of crispy bacon down onto the table.

“Oh, good. You’re up. I was afraid I’d overdosed you a bit on sleep.”

“What are you still doing here?”

“You are in need of help, my friend. Your lifestyle is atrocious. What kind of a guardian angel would I be if I didn’t make sure you ate a hearty breakfast after a night of heavy drinking?”

“I’m pretty sure guardian angels are not supposed to give you food that might kill you in a few years,” Cas said and gestured to the bacon.

“Nonsense. Sit down and eat.”

Cas complied and they ate in silence. After they both had finished – Balthazar clearly only eating for the fun of it – Cas pushed the dish away from him.

“How did my mom die?”

“Oh, I had hoped you didn’t hear that,” Balthazar said.

“How did she die? I already know you bastards killed my dad, did you kill her, too?”

“Firstly, excuse you, I didn’t kill anyone. Secondly, I’m not supposed to tell you.”

“So, one of you did kill her.”

“Again with the impaired hearing. I’m not supposed to tell you.”

“Tell me, Balthazar, I mean it.”

“I can’t. But…”

“But what?” Cas sounded exasperated, and Balthazar took pity.

“But…We could always play a neat game of hangman, you know? I heard it passes the time when you’re waiting for something.”

“You want me to play hangman to find out who killed my mother. I know I asked this before, but are all angels deranged?”

***

Cas leaned back against his chair.

“So an angel called Naomi killed my mother? Where is she?”

“She’s not… with us anymore. She was punished for killing your mother. Even Michael had to admit that her action had been too… rash. Even though Uriel claimed that she had acted righteously, giving your father a… fair warning that he had to stay on the right path.”

Cas didn’t speak for a long time. Then, after what seemed like hours, he leaned forward, a determined look on his face.

“In my duty as a guardian angel, I am obliged to ask you what you are going to do now. Also, I’m terribly curious.”

“I’m gonna kill God.”

 

~ The End... for now~

* * *

 

I know that's a mean way to end, but trust me, everything will be explained in part three. For now, goodbye dear reader, we will see each other in the third and last part of The Way I Choose, which will be probably be released sometime in 2015.

 


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